


And so it goes

by Idontwannahittheground



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Gillica, GillicaWeek, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idontwannahittheground/pseuds/Idontwannahittheground
Summary: Garcia and Gilliam in a series of loosely collected one shots
Relationships: Garcia/Gilliam (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my one very dumb friend who refused to let me not write something for this week for reasons unknown to me because I know you haven’t played this game.... and you don’t read summaries...... fucker.

There was a point where it would make more or less sense than it was.

One minute they were straining with both of there arms on the counter. An arm wrestle for the ages Garcia had crowed. It hadn’t taken much to convince Gilliam to put his arm on the counter. The alcohol was a soothing buzz that made giving in to Garcia’s loud demands an easy and enjoyable task. 

And Garcia had smiled at him in the dim light of the dingy mountain bar, before whispering “We can use our left hands.”  
He winked like it was a secret and Gilliam laughed hard enough to rattle the table. “But then I’ll beat you for sure, we’ve both gotten stronger. But my left will always be stronger than yours.”

“Those sound like betting words. What would you wager that my left hasn’t overtaken you?” 

It’s the beers fault, the way Garcia is smiling, the way everyone else in the bar he knows is absorbed in there conversations and not paying attention. It’s becuase he’s wanted it too long to let it go.

“If I win you come to bed with me.”

Gilliam regrets the words as soon as they slip out. But before he can stuff them back, before he can scramble on the ground and tell his friend. Garcia his truest friend, the father and widower who had never turned a curious eye when the warriors around him changed. Garcia nodded.

His forehead crinkled like he was working it out. “Ah now that’s a good bet!”

Someone a table over glances over curiously and Gilliam feels his stomachs drop out.

Garcia only nods again, “It’s a real good bet,” Garcia smiles a feral glint of his teeth showing in the dark. “But if I win, you have to come to MY bed. And cook me a nice dinner.” 

Gilliam takes a second to let that wash over him. “What?”

“If your going for that kind of bet mind as well get dinner attached. A bit of old world wisdom.”

The dim lights don’t hide the way his cheeks go dark. And when there hands slid together he’s uncomfortably aware that his palms feel sweaty against Garcia’s cool hand. 

It happens in a single tense moment. When Garcia leans over and whispers “Now don’t go losing on purpose.” That has Gilliam’s mind reeling, this was happening, his stupid mouth had finally given him something he wanted. And he doesn’t even feel when Garcia slams his hand down onto the table.

“Hahah I win!” Garcia cheers, the other bar patrons give a friendly show of support with scattered applause. “We’re you too distracted to face me on your own terms Gilliam?”

His face is flushed and his hand is warm, and Garcia is still holding his hand pressing it firmly into the table. Garcia’s warm chuckle fills him with a sense of rightness.  
“I expect a fine dinner Gilliam, no slacking off just because you can’t cook.”

The room is spinning. “Right.” Gilliam mutters.

When Garcia leaves the bar Gilliam stumbles after him his feet clumsy he felt drunker than he should be. Looser.  
By the time they make it to Garcia’s small room he doesn’t feel like he understands whats happening any better then he did before. But he knows where the food is and he dutifully throws together a tasteless combination of rations that he drowns in salt.

Garcia’s old wife might have been able to throw together a fine meal out of the scraps but salt covers a multitude of sins.  
Garcia doesn’t say anything about it when he cooks. 

Doesn’t say anything when the food is put in front of him by shaking hands. 

Garcia doesn’t bring up Gilliam’s sudden bet or the fact that there was a single bed waiting for them in a darkened corner of the room, none of it was making sense and Gilliam was left to wonder at it all.

What a strange world he lived in and he throws his twisted food on a plate, he sits down across from Garcia almost like he knows what he’s doing, but he can’t eat anything, can only drum his fingers senselessly on the table as Garcia slowly cuts into every piece and scrapes the plate clean.

When Garcia clears the table and throws all the plates into the sink there’s a moment where they both freeze motionless.  
Gilliam studying Garcia’s broad back as Garcia stands unmoving, if he would turn around there would be a tell in his face somewhere, that would give away what he was thinking, a smile a downturn of his eyebrows. Garcia could never contain what he was thinking.

But in the moment Gilliam can only wonder as the unease in his chest grows.

He’s about to leave, about to get up and laugh and tell Garcia that he had way too much beer. Tell him that he would see him on the training field tomorrow. That he hopes the meal wasn’t that bad, act like the words come to bed with me had never been spoken.

But as soon as he starts to move Garcia suddenly pulls away from the sink. His hands already undoing the buckle on his trousers, “Well I’ll take the right side, I did win the bet after all.” 

Gilliam nods so fast it ought to be embarrassing he wonders if someone somewhere is shaking there head in pity at him. But he had never wanted to be close to someone before. Not the way he wanted to be close to Garcia. Had never even thought about it. He was busy, he was working and then a few months after Garcia had loudly crashed into his life he was furtively stealing glances at the other man on the training ground and wondering.

Garcia’s laugh is loud sincere as the man collapses on the cot. Gilliam cautiously crawls in next to him. The bed is warmer than his own.

“This was a good bet.” Garcia murmurs.

As the room darkens and Garcia’s breathing flattens our into a soft snoring sound Gilliam agrees.


	2. Morning after without the hangover

Sleep is a free trial for death   
And Garcia already misses it. When he wakes up there’s no moment of confusion before awareness. No question as to who’s broad arms are wrapped around his torso or which face is buried under his neck. 

He knows Gilliam like the younger man was carved from a piece of his soul he didn’t know was missing. His arms knew the shape of him, he knew it was Gilliam pressed into his side before he was even awake.

And he didn’t know what to do.

Slowly he slides the arms trapped around his waist and escapes into the cold air of the room.   
When he’s sleeping Gilliam’s face is slacked and sleepy none of the serious glares and perpetual mini frown that Garcia had secretly vowed needed to be destroyed. 

Gilliam stirs in the bed and Garcia can feel the flush on his face.   
He still doesn’t know what to do.

His body is mechanical as he gets dressed his body perfunctory and perfect as he pulls his shirt and pants off the floor. 

There’s a moment of hesitation, a smile when he sees the remains of the food Gilliam made. It had been horrible, tasted like burned salt and rocks. 

But the way Gilliam had watched him, silent and with an impatient air as he drummed his hand on the table had sent a thrill through him he hadn’t felt in years. 

Not even on the battlefield.   
It might be because it was Gilliam who was doing it, he had been attracted to the younger man almost instantly but every pass he made seemed to pass right over his head.

But last night intense hooded eyes had followed him across the floor, had burned into his back as they had walked from the bar. It was a new different kind of Gilliam and it made the blood in Garcia’s face hot.

That rush of blood that told him he may not survive but it would be one hell of a ride.

He wanted that. Needed it like an iron sword to the chest, but he wanted it bad. 

He trashed the rest of the terrible food and made eggs. The simple meal mastered by anyone used to wandering the dusty roads.   
When he finishes Gilliam is still sleeping a small trail of drool accumulating on his face. 

Garcia stares for a moment. He thinks of brave wonderful Gilliam daring him late at night in a dingy bar to come to bed with him. The lazy look in his eye when he let Garcia slam his hand down on the table. Like he didn’t care, like he had already won and Garcia just hadn’t caught up yet.

He thinks about his long dead wife who stared at him scornfully from across the table as his happy married life fell apart.   
He wonders if Gilliam will tire of him too, he wonders....

He wonders if there’s something else he can make.

Nervous hands used to cutting bodies cut oranges into slices’ nervous energy makes side after side. And plates and re-plates until he has a tray of food stacked far too high for anyone too eat. Briefly he considers leaving the room for more food, he needs more to cook with. But the idea of Gilliam waking up to an empty room seems horrible. When he runs out of food he obsessed over his clothes, then the cleaning and plating.

From what angle would the good look best?  
Which side would guarantee Gilliam was impressed?  
Did all of his clothes have to smell like drying blood and beer?

By the time Gilliam wakes up it’s too a buffet of food al carefully stacked and arranged for the best lighting. Garcia carefully wearing a horrendous mismatch of clothes that while clean look horribly uncomfortable as there both tight and loose in all the wrong places.

A bouquet of fresh wildflowers that Garcia had bribed a porter boy to cut for him, three different kinds of orange juice when Garcia realized he didn’t know how much pulp Gilliam might want. 

If stress were an enemy Garcia would have been defeated by it long ago. But when Gilliam blearily smiles at the food and wanders over to it the stress eases out of him with no trace it had ever existed.

“What’s all this?” Gilliam runs a finger through a pile of whip cream and sucks it into his mouth. And Garcia is smitten.

“You made me dinner seemed only fair I made you breakfast.” He replies.

Gilliam raises an eyebrow “I made you a can of rations and salt. This is..” Gilliam trailed off clearly overwhelmed by everything.

And Garcia is stricken by one of his perfect moments of clarity says “It’s a gift for you.” 

“A gift?”

Garcia nods and motions for Gilliam to eat it. 

“Are you going to eat with me?” Gilliam asks.

“No, I’ll pour your drink though you deserve to be a little pampered! You never seem to relax.”

Gilliam kicks the chair on the other side of the table away clearing space for Garcia to sit. “I’ll only enjoy the gift if you share it with me.” He must see the hesitation in Garcia’s face because he quickly adds “I promise to relax.”

Garcia cautiously sits down.   
“I don’t mind taking care of you.”

“The way you took care of that barbarian at Occams canyon last moon?” Gilliams voice is dripping in sarcasm.

“I didn’t need your help! I would have gotten him before he hit me.” 

“You didn’t even see him, if I hadn’t been there you would be Swiss cheese right now.”

Garcia’s slaps his arm against his chest loud enough to make the plates shake. “My chest is stronger than iron!” 

Gilliam reaches over and grabs at his chest briefly, making the air in Garcia’s throat disappear. Gilliam hums thoughtfully as he pulls his hand back. “It is pretty strong.” 

Garcia gets his voice back just long enough to laugh at Gilliams cheeky grin. Whatever nerves he had, vanish as he playfully kicks Gilliams leg under the table.

“Whatever, let’s eat Swiss cheese before we become Swiss cheese.”

Gilliam’s answering laugh is enough to carry Garcia on a cloud for the rest of the morning. 

And when Gilliam later pulls of his shirt because he accidentally drops one of the overly pulpy orange juices on it thanks to a well timed joke.   
Garcia definitely isn’t complaining.


	3. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a Ball and a lot of shenanigans

Normally there band of merry misfits stayed away from larger cities and towns

But after successfully repelling an attack from the city of Eleth the city insisted on a ball to celebrate there heroes.

Gilliam was obviously against it. And Garcia....

“How can you not want to go! They even provided suits so we look snazzy.” Garcia turned around and around in the mirror trying to see his back in the sharp fitting black suit he was wearing.

Gilliam was still in his armor arms crossed on the bed... their bed. Because since there fated morning after they had started sleeping together. Nothing more than a few hard hugs and sometimes usually from Garcia, overly flirty comments.

But it was enough to let the rest of the camp know to send them exaggerated winks and knowing smiles.   
Gilliam hated it, but Garcia either didn’t notice or he really liked it. 

After watching Garcia turn a few more times Gilliam spoke up, “The only reason you want to go is so you can show off your ass.”

Garcia pauses before throwing a wicked grin over his shoulder. “No that’s why I want YOU to come, but” Garcia places both hands on his ass sliding down towards his legs “I’m more than happy to show off if you want.”

Gilliam can feel his face flushing faster than the sudden build up of saliva in his mouth.   
He refused to literally pant over Garcia like an over excited teenager but as Garcia continued to rub his hands and just ever so slightly bend over Gilliam was finding it harder to care.

“Come to the dance with me.” Garcia May have been looking over his shoulder using his overly large puppy eyes to try and convince him to give in.

But the only thing Gilliam could look at was the way Garcia pushed and pulled at his ass the tight fabric of the suit straining as it was already just a snug too small to really fit.

Gilliam wanted to thank whoever decided this was Garcia’s size. He wanted to walk over and kiss him until the older man forgot what he was trying to convince him to do. He wanted to take him to a ball room in the center of town put his hands on that ass for everyone to see and carry him in dances until Garcia’s laughter was burned into his ear.

Gilliam runs a subtle hand down his face to catch his sudden sweat. “I’ll uh, I’ll get my suit.”

Garcia spins around his smile large and excited “Really?”

Gilliam nods and the sounds of Garcia dancing in the other room gives him a smile as he pulls his armor off and starts to pull his own suit on. 

When he walks back into the other room it’s to watch Garcia rubbing his ass staring at it quietly in the mirror. “This does make me look good doesn’t it?”

His mouth is dry “Yeah you look really good Garcia.”

Garcia laughs and turns to face him, his eyes go wide and his arms fall to his side. “Oh, you look amazing.” Gilliam feels that old fluttering in his chest, and when Garcia walks over and appreciatively runs a hand down his chest he shivers.

“Your tie was crooked.” Garcia murmers. He nods unsure what to say, content to let this moment last forever. When Garcia pulls away clearing his throat loudly.

“Well we will be the two finest gentleman at the party.”  
Garcia turns around finger pointed triumphantly at the ceiling. “Don’t you think Gilliam.”

Gilliam reaches out and slaps Garcia’s ass causing the older man to yelp. He watches starry eyed as Garcia’s ass bounces a few times under the cloth. “Yeah we are.” 

Garcia laughs loudly and drags Gilliam out the door, they make it to the party late. Wandering hands constantly causing them to sneak into darkened corners as he can’t quite seem to keep his hands off of Garcia and the older man seems to never stop him no matter where he grabs. 

The ass is a favorite until Garcia stops being surprised when he slaps it.

His chest under the white shirt is the next target, casual gropes that Garcia leans into with a heated glare, the fancy way his shoes slap against the concrete and the slick backed hair.

By the time they stumble into the party Garcia’s tie is gone and neither of them know where it ended up.

Everyone gives them knowing glances. And the town council of Eleth chuckle nervously when Gilliam spins Garcia around the room his hands firmly below the waist as Garcia’s laughter drew all eyes on them.

By the second round of beer Gilliam feels confident and wild, free to do as he wants knowing that Garcia would only encourage him. 

He pulls them both to the side and firmly thumbs one of Garcia’s nipples through his shirt his tongue poking out of his mouth almost oblivious to the fact that the small fern they were standing behind wouldn’t hide what he was doing. 

And Garcia already firmly on his fourth beer smiled wide and pulled the buttons open. “Do that again.” He demanded.

Gilliam smiles and uses both hands.

In an hour Garcia’s dress shirt is gone and neither of them know or care where it is. After all they still have his suit jacket which Garcia buttons against his skin to make sure it doesn’t fall off and that seemed very reasonable to them. 

But by the time they leave everyone has gotten a glance of Garcia’s flashy red underwear becuase Gilliam can’t help but stretch the pants down as far as they will go and watch with delighted glee the way Garcia’s ass strains against the fabric.  
Wether it’s Garcia’s body that has bewitched him or the overconfident way that Garcia lets Gilliam do things to him that gets him moving he is still sure.

Either way when he finally pulls a hand out of Garcia’s pants determined to collect himself Garcia unbuttons them so the fabric hangs loose around his hips.  
“For easy access.” Garcia winks.

And Gilliam completely forgets what he was planning to do.

The decision to leave really comes when they are ordered to leave by a blushing Ephraim who refused to look at either of them.

Which rude.

They both stumble down the streets Gilliam’s wandering hands only making Garcia dance and moan in his hands like he was playing a piano. By the time they make it back to there room this time there missing Garcia’s pants, although the suit jacket was still faithfully on like a lone soldier. And somehow his shoes socks and underwear.

A fact that both of them found hilarious. “I would still have pants if you didn’t make me unzip them so you could feel me up like I’m some hussy.” Garcia complained through a laugh. 

Gilliam slapped his ass again with a lazy grin. “I didn’t unzip it you did, and you are a hussy.”

Garcia’s loud laughter trailed off halfway into a snore as he collapsed into there bed and Gilliam followed soon after.

The next day a red tie was found draped over a fence, a white dress shirt was tangled in the potted plants of the local hall, and a pristine pair of dress pants was found dangling from a roof and the town wondered with curious intensity how in the world they made it up there.

As for the jacket, socks and shoes. The town graciously allowed the two warriors to keep them because “We aren’t cleaning whatever stains they put on them.” A young handmaiden had insisted furiously as she stared at the lone pair of pants fluttering in the wind like a flag.

The jacket would soon become a regular part of Garcia’s wardrobe along with the shoes and socks.... and nothing else.

And Gilliam was glad he agreed to go to a party.


	4. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone calls for a medic

When the enemy charged you. Give them your full attention, and cut them down.

Garcia firmly believed in focusing on the enemy to the exclusion of all else all that mattered was the enemy. His only thought the best way to cut them down. It could be the middle of the day, his armor could be sticking to him in an oppressive layer of heat, it could be dark at night your ability to keep track of enemy blades almost completely obscured by the darkness.   
None of it mattered to him, let the enemy be distracted by those trivial things as his blade cut them down.

It wouldn’t be him, would never be him.

And that’s why he doesn’t know, there battle had lasted hours. Hours of endless hordes as Erica called commands over his shoulder, hours of feeling stinging bites as healers cured him from distance. The sun was setting over the valley as he triumphantly laughed his axe heavy but comforting. 

He looks for Gilliam on his left and sees no one. He turns to his right and sees the small grouping of other soldiers but Gilliam’s distinct spear isn’t rising out from the group. It takes almost an hour of him searching first calmly convinced that Gilliam couldn’t be anything other than victorious, then panicked as every fallen soldier suddenly could have been him, every obscure body every burning Bush, it takes too long to find out that a mage had sniped Gilliam almost as soon as the battle began with a fireball sending him down. 

No one will say it but Garcia knows, can feel it in his bones. Gilliam was far too good to be hit at that distance. Unless of course, he wasn’t dodging, but blocking.

Blocking for him.

He feels sick to his stomach and rushes his way to the medical tent. No one stops him, no one asks why he looks panicked. At the medical tent his son Ross is waiting for him.

“Ross is he-“

His son cuts him off “He’s fine, will be fine. His armor took the brunt of the blow and none of his skin caught fire.”

The relief is enough to make his body sag, his axe falling to the floor as he shudders. “That’s good, thats so good.”

Ross regards him from under a cool eye, “You were that worried?” 

Garcia bites his tongue he’s aware, In a way that his son doesn’t fully approve of there relationship. Wether it’s due to Gilliams age or the fact that he was raised by Garcia’s wife before her passing he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t want to cause drama. And Gilliam had a,ways insisted it didn’t bother him, insisted that it didn’t matter if anyone liked him.

“I have my duty, and I have you, I don’t need anything else.” Gilliam would say, and Garcia had enjoyed the quiet the way he could spend the night and morning with one and then join his son for a training bout. The two most important people in his life nearly separated from each other.

It had been easy for him, but knowing how close Gilliam had come to being nothing, how close it would always be until the day death finally caught up to them. He wasn’t happy with it, it looked like cowardice. And Garcia was no coward.

“Why do you dislike Gilliam? What has he done to? Or anyone?”

Ross takes a confused step backwards.

“I dare you now Ross, I challenge you to find a single man or woman who has grounds for a serious compliant against Gilliam you will find none. He is more honorable than twenty men and twice as brave.” His voice had started rising what had started as a hoarse whisper was now a shout as Ross flinched back.

“I didn’t, that wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what Ross?”

His son skittered a fine soldier yes, but still just a boy. He faltered under his gaze, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just didn’t realize, how much he meant to you.” 

Garcia let his anger roll through and over him, he loved his son even when he wanted to drive a fist into his face. But Gilliam was fine, and everything he said was true, his son ha don grounds to even dislike Gilliam and he would see that Ross was smart he had to see that.

After his anger had been swallowed he turned to face his son.  
“And now that you realize it. What do you intend on doing?”

Ross stood quietly for a while, “I suppose I have to go out for a drink with him when he’s feeling better.”

Garcia knew he was smiling like an idiot but his life was blessed.  
In a few minutes a healer would guide him into the tent where a sleepy Gilliam would smile at him like he was the sun, and Ross would teasingly ask Gilliam what he hoped to milk out of his ‘old man’ a quiet but leading question. 

And his smile only got wider when Gilliam had replied in all seriousness. “As much as I can get. For as long as I can get it.”   
Ross and Gilliam smiled at each other in solidarity, and Garcia was touched in a way he never would have been if he had never tried to grab onto that simple life in the mountains. 

Everything had been worth it for this, and so he loudly grabbed onto Gilliam’s arm causing the man to yelp before announcing. “I feel the same about you! Of course I get the better deal with a younger man. More vitality you know.”

Gilliam immediately flushed but it took Ross a second before his face drained entirely pale. “Dad that’s gross!”

“It’s entirely natural.” He countered.

Gilliam smiled in the same way he did right before they perfectly flanked an enemy. “There’s nothing natural about your stamina.” He said.

Ross went even paler. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Garcia leaned in close to Gilliam close enough that he could see the barely suppressed laughter on his deadpan face.   
“Nowhere near as unnatural as your long and thick,”   
Ross let out a strangled cry and dashed out of the room and Garcia waited a beat before announcing to the empty air “Spear.”

Gilliam sudden laughter made the room brighter, “I’m positive that your spear is a holy weapon. No other spear is as fast as yours, I wonder why Ross couldn’t stand to listen to that?”   
He made an exaggerated thinking face which caused Gilliam to go off on a new peal of laughter.   
Garcia waited until Gilliam had calmed himself his smiling face directly focused on him.

“I do feel the same you know,” he reached out and grabbed Gilliams hand from off the scratchy bed. “For as long as I can get it.”

“That’s going to be a long time then.” Gilliam responded.

They smiled at each other in silence until a nurse popped her head into the room.   
“Hey no more than hand holding you two! We cure battle wounds not trauma.”

“You let the other couples kiss!” Garcia retorts.

“The other couples don’t have a habit of losing there clothes outside.” She replies immediately.

Gilliam smothers a laugh and tightens his grip on Garcia’s hand. “She’s right love.” 

It’s the first pet name Gilliam has ever used and it makes the feeling in Garcia’s chest soar to new heights. And he turns a fond gaze to the man on the bed. “Well he’s not feeling well enough for me to do anything right now anyway.”

The nurse shakes her head before walking out of the room, “Tell that to your son, he refuses to come near you until he knows your pants your on.” She calls.

Garcia laughs until he runs out of air.   
And Gilliam rubs calming circles on his back, however much time they have. Garcia already knows these are the best days of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmm


	5. Fluffier then a pillow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s fluff and now I kinda wanna write more

It’s a relationship now  
He has a permanent wardrobe that has a drawer for his things and a drawer for Garcia’s things. 

And as Gilliam clears all of Garcia’s junk out of his drawer and back into the older mans drawers he marvels at the ease of it all.  
And it’s amazing how something so small has allowed the concrete idea of relationship to settle in his head. It was a weird relationship sure where they trained, bantered argued and then ended up rolling around in a bed laughing there goddamn minds out before hosting his lovers son for dinner. 

But It was good. Almost too good sometimes, but it’s weird quirky energy made him hopeful. There was only one doubt niggling at the back of his mind.

Garcia didn’t like to talk about his feelings, the older man would yell and laugh and cheer and now that they were closer. Flat out strip tease his way out of conversations, Garcia had a wicked tongue and he never used it for good.

But over the time they had been together Gilliam had peaced together the events leading up to where the man was now. And one of the biggest ones, and probably the most surprising one. 

Was marriage.

Garcia had gotten frustrated at the idea that he would have cheated on his wife when she was alive. Enraged when Gilliam had tried to understand what exactly had happened in the past.

But what he had put together was this. Marriage was antiquated, Gilliam didn’t need it to be happy, he was dating a battle obsessed man and there home was wherever the war took them. But In Garcia’s mind marriage changed the way a relationship came together. Changed what it meant for him to be him.

Garcia was old fashioned about the strangest things. 

And the idea that he loved marriage. That marriage was necessary for relationships. And yet he had not asked Gilliam to marry him. That bothered him. It worried at him when Garcia loudly kissed his cheek at the bar, it worried him when Ross and his father would disappear for a day and return covered in scratches talking about bear trapping. 

Worried him becuase it meant that Garcia might have one foot out the door and Gilliam didn’t know what he would do without him.

Didn’t know how to explain that who he is was tangled up in Garcia irreversibly. That before he was just Gilliam but now he was Gilliam and Garcia he couldn’t just go back to Gilliam.

And Garcia hasn’t asked him anything.

A direct upfront conversation was obviously the best way to handle this misunderstanding. 

It was also terrifying so instead he would apply psychological warfare gaurenteed to make the older man fall to one knee singing his praises to the sky.  
Obviously.

The first attempt is in bed.  
“Anything you want Garcia?”

Garcia casually sharpened his axe spinning it in his hand three times, “Nothing comes to mind.”

Gilliam let his fingers drum on the table “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Because if you did want something that would be fine.”

“It would be, but I don’t.”

Gilliam lets a moment pass.  
“If your sure.”

Garcia thumps the axe on the floor. “If you are determined for me to ask for something you can come to bed with me.”

Gilliam lets the sentence wash over him for a second before he scrambles over to that side of the room. Garcia pets his hair and calls him strange.

Gilliam lets it happen because it feels good. He’s positive that he’s this close to making Garcia crack. 

The next day he reports to training with a large bouquet of flowers that Garcia gingerly takes from him likes he’s suspicious it will explode. 

He doesn’t get down on one knee. But he does look starry eyed.

The day after that Gilliam bribes a few of the mages to shoot fireworks into the sky and takes Garcia to a remote spot to watch.

The night ends with Garcia’s head tucked under his chin as the older man gleefully giggles about being wooed. It’s not a proposal. But it’s closer.

The next week he polishes all of Garcia’s armor. 

The week after he convinces every knight to give Garcia a full salute whenever he passes for a day. 

The day after that he convinces Ephraim to sign off on giving them a dangerous ‘solo’ quest which involves them battling a deadly picnic next to a shallow pool of clear water.

Garcia has stars in his eyes whenever he looks at him now. Has a face slack with adoration and pride.

He still hasn’t proposed though so clearly Gilliam thinks. He needs to try harder.

But he can’t think of anything, there’s no one in camp left to bribe. No unknown secret of Garcia’s that will reveal a secret date thing.... thing.

Gilliam scribbles out his notes and starts over. Maybe he can find a way to bribe the bar into giving him free drinks for a night.... but no bar who knew how much he could drink would do that. 

Not even if they saved the bartenders life. 

He crosses out and scribbles and angrily tears to pieces scrap after scrap. He’s so concerned he doesn’t see the soft adoring face walking up to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the perfect way to make Garcia propose to me.”

He scribbles our another terrible plan involving Pegasus flying all over the world. It’s a terrible plan they would get lost, or shot out of the sky.

“Youre making dates?”

Gilliam grunts in acknowledgment.

“To make Garcia propose to you.”

Gilliam grunts again subtly trying to shift so he has better light. The shadow of the other man almost completely covered him at this point.

“You want to get married to Me?”

Gilliam sighs loudly “No Garcia wants to get married to me, and I’m willing to go along with it.”

It isn’t until the stranger laughs that Gilliam’s heart crawls into his throat because he should have fucking looked up or even recognized the voice in his ear.

Garcia is beaming down at him in amusement. “So you don’t want to get married my little lover!”

Gilliam can feel his cheeks flush “I said don’t call me that.”

“My little lover, my small champion, my Gilliam.” Garcia’s eyes are twinkling with amusement.

“I’m not the one who wants to get married! That’s all you.”

Garcia laughs loudly again, “I did get married! Look at how badly that turned out.”

Garcia stares off blankly into the distance, his mind trapped between the mistakes of yesterday and the promise of tomorrow before roughly shaking his head. “No, I’ve already tried and failed at that, I would never trap you with an old fart like me.” 

Gilliam isn’t aware he’s frowning until Garcia’s thumb brushes the corner of his mouth. 

“Are you mad at me?” Garcia’s voice is a whisper.

Gilliam can feel the sadness like it was his own. Garcia was apart of him even if they didn’t get married and he was ok.  
“No, I just thought you would like to get married. But if you don’t it’s fine.”

“Do you want to get married.”

“Marriage is old fashioned and antiquated at best.”

Garcia grabs his arm firmly “Love, I’m asking you. Do you want to marry me?”

Gilliam stares up at the sky and then down at the hand on his arm. “I really want to get married to you.”

Garcia jumps into him with a crushing hug that sends them both to the ground and Garcia’s peeling laughter makes the birds fly off into the sky as Gilliam fights back tears because yeah he wanted to marry Garcia so badly he could taste it.

After every kiss and every word of affection it had sat there waiting. Hidden just out of sight. If he could have gone back to that dingy bar as Garcia had stared him down, a look that Gilliam would have called challenging back then.

But now, now with Garcia laughing in his lap and the sun in his face he knew that even back then Garcia looked at him with adoration. 

If he could go back he would change his bet. Would have slammed his hand down and said “If I win you have to marry me.”

And he knows that if he had Garcia would have answered him “But if I win. You have to marry ME.”

He laughs until there sick of it and the sun sets. It was a good day.


End file.
